


the one with the vague-posting

by arielmagicesi



Category: RWBY
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slight Canon Divergence, by which I mean KIND OF hurt/comfort. not the gross version of the genre. but yang needs comforting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 04:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13473672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arielmagicesi/pseuds/arielmagicesi
Summary: Yang is burning up inside, but she isn't allowing herself to feel the pain. Instead, she's taken to vague-posting online about it, and the rest of the time, bottling it up. Will she be able to open up to her friends?





	the one with the vague-posting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so, a couple things:  
> 1) yes there is some canon divergence. The comm networks were down, I'm sure Patch was too small of a town to have a social media community, but it worked for the fic so I wrote it in. There's other details I sort of fudged, but I think it works.   
> 2) Rwitter is... RWBY Twitter... I'm original...  
> 3) In this, Yang is definitely aware that she's gay and into Blake, but not doing anything about it except having difficult feelings.  
> 4) I re-wrote the scene with Weiss from v5e8, and I got some of the dialogue right, some of it wrong. I just wanted to convey the feeling of it, because it's a really important moment in Yang's character development.
> 
> Anyway yeah! I hope you guys like this!

Yang really wasn’t the type of person to get a Rwitter account. She was way too cool for that. But months of being alone in the house with nothing but her dad’s books on fighting technique had made her bored. The comm networks from Beacon sucked, but Patch’s local networks had been put back up within a few weeks of the battle.

Most of the things you could access on local Internet, as it turned out, were bad gossip and pictures of people’s puppies. Yang liked the latter. She wasn’t so into hearing about town gossip, but the account did give her a place to waste time. Obviously, she didn’t use her real name, or she’d have been flooded with followers, after her role in the battle on Beacon.

She just posted exercise tips, pictures of green smoothies (thanks to Ren for the recipes), and the occasional cute pic of Zwei. At least to start.

It was the Rwitter account that had led her to “vague-posting,” her new favorite hobby. She had so much anger inside of her, and there was nowhere like an anonymous account with some mildly interested strangers to let it out to.

Tai didn’t listen. God, she’d tried, too, against her better judgment. She’d made the mistake of telling him about her flashbacks, one time when he’d come to sit next to her on the porch and she’d jumped and taken a fighting stance. She was tearing up, telling him how hard it was just to keep it together day to day. Then she’d looked up, thinking that he was trying to be patient and listen quietly or something, the way Pyrrha or Ruby or someone might have, but she’d been met with Tai’s trademark stern disappointed face. She should have known better with her dad.

“These things happen after battle,” he said, matter-of-fact. “It’s time you learned that if you want to be a Huntress. You can stay here forever and do nothing if you want. Or you can be brave, take some time to heal your injuries, and get back out there.”

She’d taken a long breath, wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“You’re right, Dad,” she said, staring into the woods. “It’s just taking a while.”

“That’s OK,” he said. “But don’t take forever.”

From then on, he was always giving her disappointed looks whenever she dropped something or looked scared or acted a little jumpy. She knew what he was thinking- _she’s having those dumb flashbacks again_. Wouldn’t be good to have that in battle, especially if somebody put an illusion on her again, to not know what was real- and there it was, another bad memory to just swallow.

He was right. Of course he was right. She couldn’t stay in the house forever, she needed to get better, she needed to be less weak. She wanted to be a Huntress. She didn’t want to be like this. But she was so full of… of _poison_. She felt like spitting it out.

Qrow was gone. Ruby was gone. When her professors visited, they didn’t want to listen either, laughing along with Tai about Yang’s inability to get over her injury. It was good old-fashioned ribbing. It meant she was part of the adult crowd now. So why did she just feel more left out and alone than ever?

Something about her was just, just _wrong_ and _off._ Somewhere along the way, everyone else had learned some secret she hadn’t, something about being strong and grown-up and real, and she was left smiling and faking it. It had worked for so long. And then at the battle of Beacon, something had snapped inside of her and it didn’t work anymore.

And no one wanted to hear her whine about it.

No one, that is, except the convenient shiny void of her mobile device, where she could type, using the stand and stylus that made it less hard to do it one-handed, all her angry thoughts. All her not-so-pleasant feelings. Everything that didn’t work, that didn’t fit into the box.

She’d started off with the web handle “huntress-goalsss,” but then she’d discovered a couple of accounts that talked about sexualities, which she’d read voraciously. She had never seen such a thing- a few teenagers who lived in town were apparently not straight, and they loved talking about it. They called themselves things like “library bisexual” and “coffee asexual” and things like that, based on whatever they were into. It was funny and heartwarming. Yang hadn’t thought that sex and sexuality could just be nice things. Under the safety of anonymity, she changed her account name to “exercise-lesbian.”

A few people unfollowed after that, but she didn’t care. When had she ever cared what people thought? (Except always and all the time and what people thought itched at the back of her head). No, she _didn’t care_ what people thought. She broke the rules! She was a Huntress! (She was so _angry_ at her dad and her professors for thinking less of her).

“lol if you unfollowed because i changed my username then like, grow up bc i genuinely do not care,” she typed, and clicked send.

A bunch of her followers liked the post. Something warm lit up in her. She’d gotten angry, she’d let some emotion pour through, and people _liked_ it.

Later that night, she was in her room, trying to fall asleep, and then it happened again. It happened all the time now. It wasn’t that she’d never been sad before; it was just that before, she’d had a handle on it. Now the sadness came in unstoppable, horrible waves. And pouring after it, always, was the anger.

How _dare_ Blake leave. When everyone else had left. Pyrrha had had no choice in dying, of course, and Weiss had had no choice in being whisked away by her shitty dad. Ruby and the remainder of Team JNPR had stayed for a while, and they had made the right choice in leaving to do good. But Blake. Blake had no _right_. Blake had no excuse. After all she and Yang had been through together- to leave right after the worst part? How could she?

Yang was not going to cry again. She knew her dad could hear her crying, unless she muffled it in her pillow, and she was tired of crying.

She reached for her device, which was charging on the nightstand, and turned it on.

“people who run away from their friends when their friends need them the most… are the WORST kind of people,” she typed.

That felt good. It also felt bad. Now that it was typed out, instead of just in her head, she realized that it wasn’t a particularly kind thought. Blake wasn’t the worst kind of person, god, that was the _problem_ ; if she had been the worst kind of person, Yang wouldn’t have cared.

And deep down, Yang knew that Blake hadn’t left just to hurt her. It was unfair to say that.

She thought about deleting the post, but she was still so hurt and angry. She just wanted someone to tell her, “yes, the anger you feel right now is real and OK and someone hurt you and maybe they didn’t mean to but you’re still hurt.”

She put her device on the stand and fell back asleep. In the morning, she had one like on it, and a reply that said, “yeah i feel that :/”.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. It wasn’t really what she had wanted, but it was something.

As the winter cleared and Yang got used to her new arm, she spent more time outside and less time on her mobile device. But the habit didn’t break. There were so many long nights and so little distractions. If Yang just had someone to punch, or a long ride on her motorcycle with her headphones in, or something to track down…. But she was just at home, with no one but her moody dad for company, and she had so many long stretches of misery and remembering.

She typed, “you ever get so into your head about a girl and then she lets you down?”

And then, “i mean i should probably get over it. she wouldn’t have liked me anyway”

And then, “i’m so alone”

And, “ik you guys can see this someone please just respond”

“she hurt me and i know it wasn’t her fault but i miss her and everything hurts”

“i should be stronger i know i know I KNOW”

That was when one of her followers, someone she’d talked to a couple of times about weight-lifting safety, replied to her. “hey I get that you’re suffering but this is really toxic to read. please stop posting such unhealthy things”

Yang nearly threw the device across the room. She hadn’t gone onto this fucking website to be chastised. Didn’t she get that enough from her dad?

Everyone was so obsessed with being healthy. With Yang being healthy again, strong again, ready to fight the hell out of the bad guys again. Well, Yang was _unhealthy_ and she was _toxic_ and she didn’t care.

She typed, furiously, “unfollow me then! fuck you.”

Later, she deleted the whole string of posts, feeling miserable. They made her sound like a petulant child. She _was_ being a petulant child. She felt like someone screaming, angry, powerful, but she just sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Luckily, the only person who’d seen was that one user, who blocked her.

The spring became warmer, and Yang was getting better. It was a warrior’s definition of getting better, anyway- she could stomach getting up to fight again. The night terrors hadn’t gone, the bitterness hadn’t gone, but those things didn’t matter in a battle. And all that Yang mattered for was a battle.

She got on her motorcycle and rode off in search of Ruby.

 

“What are you doing?” Ruby asked, piling herself over Yang like an overexcited puppy.

Yang quickly closed out of Rwitter on her device. “Looking at stuff online,” she said.

“What kinda stuff?” Ruby asked, sprawling down on the couch, her legs still draped over Yang’s waist.

Yang shrugged. “Funny pictures. The Haven networks suck way less than the ones in Patch.”

“Ooh, I wanna see funny pictures!” Ruby said. “I don’t go online a lot, but I love the one with baby animals who think that they’re scary Grim! So cute!”

Yang smiled. She’d missed Ruby. Something in her chest ached- she wanted to say something like, _I’m sorry that I didn’t say I love you too all those months ago_ , but that would make her seem weak and vulnerable. Yang was a Huntress. She wasn’t weak and vulnerable. She showed her love to Ruby by protecting her, by fighting tooth and nail for her. Not by saying words and crying.

God, she was sick of sitting around online. She needed to go do something real.

Punching through her problems didn’t actually work. She knew that. If she worked right- if she was someone healthy- some strong, invincible Huntress- like she _had_ been- like she was _supposed_ to be-

But she wasn’t, so she had to rely on crutches. Push the pain down, perfect her hand-to-hand combat with punching bags or with Nora or Ren if they volunteered. Jaune was useless to fight against, and Weiss was always busy with something else, and she didn’t want to fight Ruby right now. If she kept moving, her mind cleared.

The hurt still rose, like bile in her throat, every morning when she woke up.

The first morning in Mistral, she let her guard slip. It hadn’t gone badly at all. She just couldn’t help herself, when Ruby said, “I wish Blake were here.”

_What a clueless thing to say_ , Yang had thought, and snapped, “Yeah, well, she made her choice.”

She’d been greeted with silence, and then Weiss saying, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

_Oh, here comes the lecture,_ Yang thought. She’d done it wrong again, gotten angry at a teammate for hurting her. Gotten hurt. That wasn’t allowed, was it?

But when she’d spat out all her feelings and stormed off to her room, she hadn’t felt like she’d expected. What she’d expected was to feel relief. A little fear, maybe, like she’d just pissed off an authority, but like she was the righteous one.

She didn’t feel like that. She felt a sting in her abdomen. She had hurt Ruby and Weiss. And Ruby and Weiss weren’t furious with her, they were just confused and worried.

How selfish of Yang. She was so careless with her anger.

Weiss came in, gentle, careful. Like Yang had broken glass all over the room.

Yang tried to swallow her anger, but it was pouring through her like hot lava. She couldn’t help spitting out, “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to be left! You have a huge family- my mom left me. Ruby’s mom left too. And _I_ had to hold everything together!”

Weiss paused for a moment, and then she told Yang that story, about how her parents had splintered apart. Yang felt sorry for her, she did, but she didn’t get the point. What was Weiss trying to say- _stop complaining, Yang?_ Because Weiss had the kind of problems that people with families had? Cooler problems, more mature problems?

“But you’re right, Yang,” Weiss said, and Yang looked sideways at her. “I don’t know loneliness like you do. I have my own kind of loneliness. And I bet Blake has hers, too.”

Something in Yang startled at that. She suddenly felt like crying.

Weiss was saying- she was saying that Yang’s loneliness was real. That it hurt.

And then Yang was crying.

“What if I needed her to be with me?” she burst out, and buried her face in her hands.

“She’s going to come back,” Weiss said. “I trust her. Yang, you and Ruby and Blake, you mean more to me than my own brother, my own father. I’m sure Blake feels the same. And when she comes back, I’m going to welcome her as part of my team. She didn’t leave to hurt you, Yang, I promise. She left for her own reasons. And she cares about you. She’s coming back.”

Yang wiped her eyes.

“Thanks, Weiss,” she said, and smiled. Weiss smiled, too.

 

“Yang?”

Yang’s eyes opened. She was lying in bed and it was morning, the day after the attack on Haven. Across the room from her, Ruby was curled up and snoring. No one else was there.

Oh- the voice was an echo from her dream. She kept hearing Blake say her name, over and over. The way she’d said it when she arrived, like that was who she’d come for, like two halves of a whole were finally meeting up again.

And how Yang’s eyes had widened and she’d done her duty and run after Raven and the relic.

Yang rolled over in bed and tried to close her eyes again, then she rolled over again and got up. She got dressed. Sleep wasn’t going to happen, and sun was already glinting through the window blinds.

Out on the balcony, she flexed in the sunlight, and, out of habit, she did her morning stretches.

“I’m still standing here,” she whispered under her breath.

That was her motto. Strength. Resilience. That was what she had said to Raven, down there in the chamber. No matter how hard, no matter how painful, no matter the wound running right through her and the red bleeding through her shirt, she kept going. She stood up, ready to fight.

And when no one saw her, and she was in that strange netherland, she sank to her knees and sobbed.

She was not OK.

Somehow it hurt more to know that her teammates cared. Alone in the house with Tai, she could live life by her motto, because it was his motto too: keep fighting and fighting, no matter how much it hurts. He said so many things about watching your breath and pacing, but that only counted on the battlefield, didn’t it? Not for when you hurt on the inside.

She pulled her device out of her jacket pocket, and she typed out a new post.

“I’m not OK and I don’t know what to do.”

Then she added: “I have friends who care. I just don’t want to burden them. And I don’t know who I’ll be if I open up for real.”

Finally, she added: “I’m sorry for posting all this negative shit all the time. thanks for putting up with it and all”.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Yang nearly jumped. It was Blake, and walking with her out onto the balcony was her new friend- Ilana something.

“I’m not sure if we met,” the friend said. She had gorgeous red hair and really cute freckles. “My name’s Ilia. I was friends with Blake back in the old days.”

Ilia sat down next to Yang, and Blake sat down on her other side.

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Yang said. “I’m Yang, Blake’s teammate.”

Ilia laughed. “Oh, yeah, I know who you are. I’ve heard _aaaall_ about you-”

Out of the corner of her eye, Yang caught Blake doing a “kill” motion over her throat, and blushing. Ilia laughed.

“What, did she tell you my dark secrets?” Yang said. “Or did she just tell you that I’m the coolest, strongest Huntress ever?”

“Wow, Yang, don’t hold back on the self-love there,” Blake said, in her usual deadpan voice.

“Nah, she just talks about her teammates a lot, especially you,” Ilia said.

Yang smiled. “I’m glad we’re all back in the same place.”

“Me, too,” Blake said.

Ilia raised her eyebrows, then said, “So, yeah. What are you doing up so early?”

“Just, uh…” She didn’t want to admit to uselessly wasting time on the Internet, but Ilia had already glanced at her screen.

“Oh, you’ve got a Rwitter account?” she said. “What’s your username?”

Yang froze up. Blake was giving her a confused look, and she wasn’t sure if _now_ was really the right time to come out, but oh well, there was no good time.

“It’s, uh, exercise-lesbian,” she said.

Blake’s eyes widened, and then she smiled. Yang stared at her lap.

“Wait, that’s you?” Ilia said. “No way, holy shit! I’m chameleon_lesbian!”

“What?” Yang said, surprised out of her awkward feeling. “That’s _you?_ ”

“Yeah, we talked about battle techniques! Remember? About not overusing semblance when you fight?”

“I totally remember, that is so cool!” Yang held up her fist, and Ilia bumped it.

“What are you guys even talking about?” Blake said. “What’s Rwitter?”

“It’s a website,” Ilia said.

“That explains why she hasn’t heard of it,” Yang said. “It’s not a deep mysterious romance novel.”

“Very funny,” Blake said. “Well, I can’t believe you guys know each other already. That’s so cool.”

“One less awkward get-to-know-you session, yeah,” Ilia said. “Meeting the Schnee heiress was a nightmare.”

Yang snorted, and Blake said, “She really isn’t like that. She’s kind of the rebel of the family.”

“She seemed nice enough, I guess,” Ilia said. “Being a spineless liberal is gonna take some getting used to.”

Yang and Blake glanced at her, eyebrows raised, and Ilia said, “Kidding. You’re not spineless liberals. I’ll radicalize you soon enough. In a good way, Blake, relax.”

Blake was shaking her head fondly. “We’ll figure it out.”

Ilia got up. “Speaking of awkward get-to-know-you sessions,” she said. “Let’s go meet everyone else. Get it over with.”

“Yeah, go on inside,” Blake said. “I’ll be with you in a sec.”

A thrum of panic was under Yang’s skin. What could Blake possibly want?

The door to the building closed behind Ilia, and Blake said, “We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk.”

“It’s OK,” Yang said quickly. “We don’t need to talk. It’s all good.”

A blatant lie. It wasn’t all good.

“No, it isn’t,” Blake said.

Yang sighed. “You can read right through me.”

“You’re pretty good at pretending you’re fine,” Blake said. “Not that good.”

“You still know me too well,” Yang said.

She pulled her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry I left like that,” Blake said. “I didn’t even say goodbye. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK,” Yang said. It wasn’t OK. She didn’t want to say something like _sorry’s not enough_ but sorry wasn’t enough.

“Yang, you can talk to me. If I hurt you-”

“It’s not a matter of if,” Yang said. “You did. It’s over though. I moved on. I have to move on. That’s what fighters do.”

Blake’s face fell.

“I never meant for Adam to hurt you-”

“It wasn’t Adam,” Yang said. “And it’s not about the arm. I would have cut off both my arms to protect you. You hurt me because you left. We want you to be here, Blake. No matter the cost. The thing that hurt was you leaving. But I told you. I’ve got it under control. I can keep on fighting.”

She was looking right at Blake, who looked like she was about to cry. It didn’t make sense. Yang was _telling_ her that it was OK now. What was wrong?

“Remember the dance we put together back at Beacon?” Blake said. “You and Ruby had so much fun planning it and I was stressed out because I thought I had to keep on fighting.”

“That’s different,” Yang muttered.

“No, it isn’t. You helped me. You told me that everyone needs a break-”

“I _took_ a break!” Yang exclaimed. Blake startled, but stayed where she was. “I took a break, one hell of a long break, I was at home for months. I’m well fucking rested.”

“But you’re still in pain.”

“Yeah, no shit I’m still in pain! I saw horrors in Beacon. I saw you almost get killed by that shitstain. And then you disappeared! I’m not over it but I’m enough over it to keep going.”

“You don’t have to keep going-”

“We’re in a war, Blake.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant you can talk to me. You can talk to any of us.”

“No, I can’t,” Yang said, and now she felt like crying. “I’ll only hurt you. My anger isn’t pretty.”

She didn’t want to add: she would hurt herself, too. She couldn’t open up all those veins of hurt again; she was worried she would never recover.

“I don’t care,” Blake said. “Please, Yang. I’m sorry.”

“I told you,” Yang said. “It’s OK.”

She got up and stormed off into the building, door swinging behind her.

Ruby would still be asleep, or just getting up. Yang didn’t want to subject Ruby to her anger, anyway. She headed to the living room, where she saw Oscar and Qrow.

“Hey, kid,” Qrow said. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” she said, trying to keep her breathing even.

Qrow nodded. He would get it- he was a fighter, too.

“See you,” she said, and headed back out before Oscar or Ozpin, whoever he was now, could say anything. She really didn’t feel like dealing with that.

The exercise room was empty. She sat down on one of the benches. There was some equipment, not much- Haven couldn’t measure up to Beacon. Mostly there was empty space and big windows and room to breathe.

Yang was so tightly wound. That was supposed to be her superpower, her semblance. Take in all the hurt and dark of the world, wind it up tight, and throw it back out in a ball of fire. But it wasn’t working. It didn’t work like that these days.

What was wrong with her?

“Yang?”

The voice this time was Ilia’s. Yang looked up, trying not to sigh exasperatedly.

“Hey,” she said. Blake’s weird friend- even if it did turn out to be chameleon_lesbian, who was pretty damn cool- was not who she wanted to see right now. Well, there was no one she wanted to see right now.

“I figured I’d find you here,” she said. “Blake sort of wandered off when you left. Also, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Great,” Yang said. “I mean, uh, great. What do you want to talk about?”

Ilia sat down next to Yang.

“Look, I know this is super uncomfortable. I just know that I wish someone had reached out to me. Before, I mean. Back when I was angry and hurt and I just wanted to fix it.”

“What are you talking about?” Yang said, staring at her hands.

“Did Blake tell you anything about me?”

“Yeah, I know you were part of the White Fang, too,” Yang said. “What about it?”

“I wasn’t just part of the White Fang,” Ilia said. “I was one of the most trusted members. I participated in… horrible things. I got to the point where they made me kidnap Blake so they could kill her parents and burn down her house.”

Yang stood up, instantly.

“Why are you telling me this?” Yang asked. “So I can know you’re one more person not to trust?”

“No,” Ilia said. “That’s exactly the opposite of my point. Blake escaped before I could take her and I didn’t go through with the other parts of their plan. But I came really close. I was tough. I was ready to destroy things, to destroy innocent people. I thought it was the right way. Well no, I didn’t think it was the right way. I knew it was wrong. I knew that Adam Taurus was not the one who would lead the Faunus to liberation. But I was so hurt, so angry, so afraid, that I let myself believe it anyway. I knew the truth and I let myself believe his lies anyway!”

Her eyes had become burning red, and her skin was brightening up as well. Yang guessed that was her Faunus thing. She knew that Ilia was dangerous, but she had an unusual trust of her; she at least wanted to hear more.

“You know what it’s like to know the truth and tell yourself lies anyway,” Ilia said. “That’s kind of the gay experience.”

Yang nodded and crossed her arms. “Sure. You’re right there. But what’s your point?”

“My point is that I see my old self in you. You’ve been hurt. You’re beginning to question what you’ve been told is the right way. You don’t know who to trust, and you’re just so angry. You’ve had your heart broken, even by the same girl.”

Yang turned red and averted her eyes.

“It’s so easy to just not talk about it. To just vent online and bottle up your anger because you’re afraid. But that only takes you to bad places. Really bad places. You might really hurt people.”

“I know, I’m a fucking monster,” Yang began. She was tired of being reprimanded.

“No,” Ilia said, and stood up to face Yang. “You’re not. But you might be.”

Yang stared her down. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Open up,” Ilia said. “Let yourself be vulnerable. Talk to your friends. Be in pain. Make mistakes.”

Yang hung her head.

“I don’t know,” she said, to the ground more than to Ilia. “I don’t know who I’ll be if I let myself be vulnerable. I don’t know if I’ll ever be myself again.”

Ilia’s freckles warmed, and she reached a hand out to Yang.

“You’ll always be yourself,” she said. “Who you are is changing, that’s all. And trust me. Better to have to hurt through some change, than to become someone you can’t bear to live with. I almost went down that path. I don’t want to see anyone else do the same.”

Yang’s chest felt like it was cracking open, flooding. Good and bad. Hard.

“You’re right,” she said.

“Yeah, get used to it,” Ilia said. “I plan on being right a lot.”

Yang smiled.

Ilia headed out, and Yang stood in the growing sunlight from the windows. Things were changing. She’d told her mother, yesterday, she was questioning what she was told. She wasn’t going to be loyal to Raven and she wasn’t going to be loyal to Ozpin, either. She wanted to become a better person. _That_ was the point of being a Huntress- helping the innocent, protecting her loved ones. Not being strong, not punching through everything that hurt.

She took a long, deep breath and headed upstairs. In the living room, Oscar and Qrow were gone, and in their place were Ruby, Blake, and Weiss.

All three of them looked up when Yang walked in, faces filled with worry.

Yang lifted her good arm and waved.

“Uh, hey, you guys,” she said. “Is it OK if we all talk?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm arielmagicesi on Tumblr and @ArielKalati on Twitter if you want to talk to me there!


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